


10 AM - Paris Time

by enkelimagnus



Series: RarePair Challenge [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Paris (City), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24020551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enkelimagnus/pseuds/enkelimagnus
Summary: Luke is on mission in Paris, and Maryse enjoys life there, sitting at the terrace of a café.
Relationships: Luke Garroway/Maryse Lightwood
Series: RarePair Challenge [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732636
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13
Collections: Shadowhunters Challenges - Rare Pairs





	10 AM - Paris Time

The café stood at the corner of a little square, onto one of the busiest and beautifulest avenues of Paris. The chair seats were made of braided plastic, bright, shiny white, with wooden frames supporting them. They were more comfortable than they originally appeared.

The waiters of the café had not yet pulled the shades to protect the row of seats from the sun, so Maryse enjoyed it fully. It was around 10 in the morning, and it was her 30th day in Paris. 

The coffee was stronger than she was used to, and she’d learned that the type she preferred was called café double, and not americano. Ordering americanos in cafés got you strange looks, and a quite disgusting drink.

She was reading a book, in French, of course, working on her old French skills that had been forgotten during the last decades spent in the New York Institute. It was only the end of her first month here, and they would stay for as long as Luke was needed in the Paris Institute. And for now, it seemed like Alec had asked him to stay at least a trimester.

Maryse had her own things to do. She had people to see, she needed to visit a couple of shops held by demons and warlocks alike. The first one had been Mirek’s old shop, that had been taken over by a new one. She’d introduced herself and offered some help with possible translations. That was her job now. 

She had those business cards, written with Maryse Lightwood, Antiques Dealer & Shadow World Translator. They seemed a bit strange some days. Like they didn’t really belong to her. But yet, here she was. That was her life now, she collected things, helped translate records and worked on decoding Circle code that seemed to permeate the life of many Downworlder Antiques Dealers. 

Some days she felt terrible about those, about the fact that Circle members had systematically taken from the Downworld, systematically locked away from them. It was their knowledge, their books, their art and tools, but the Circle had taken it and locked it away behind impenetrable code. And Maryse was trying to undo it.

Those were the days where she wanted to apologize to everyone. But apologies didn’t help. She didn’t want to seem like she was asking for pity for this, because she wasn’t. She just wanted to fix what she’d been responsible for, somewhat.

The sun shifted a little and she pulled down her sunglasses on her nose. Over the cream stone of the nearby building, in between old small houses and old municipal buildings, the sun was playing hide and seek. And her coffee was getting cold.

Cold coffee was good, but she liked dunking her croissant in hot one. Dark and delicious and so comforting, with the buttery flackiness of the croissant. Oh, how she could get used to this. To this life, to reading cheap detective stories in French at a café terrasse, waiting for her boyfriend to come back from an early morning check-in at the Institute.

Just as she started thinking about him, she saw him part the crowd of Parisians walking onto the street. He was coming from the Paris Institute, and he was walking, as always. He liked the subway enough but he preferred walking from the Institute to their favorite café, L’Etincelle. 

He looked great, his beard grown back now. People turned as he walked, a tall beautiful Black man with a leather jacket and dark eyes fixed on hers. Maryse blushed and went back to pretending that she wasn’t seeing him. Behind her sunglasses, she stole glances at him to see where he was, which way he was coming. 

“Excusez moi, mademoiselle,” Luke said, his accent strong under the French words.

Maryse turned to him as he stopped in front of her table. “Qu’y-a-t-il, monsieur?” 

She couldn’t help the grin tugging at her lips as he looked at her, leaning a little closer. “I saw you from across the street, and you looked so beautiful that I couldn’t help but come and ask for a drink with you.” 

Maryse chuckled. “How about coffee? Right now?” She replied. 

“Merci beaucoup,” Luke slid into the chair by her side. 

Maryse turned to him, pulling him closer and kissing him softly on the lips. Luke was smiling against her mouth, reaching to hold her as well. Maryse felt like she was floating. Like every time that Luke kissed her like this, like she was precious and good and loved.

She moved back after a moment. French people didn’t seem to care about random French kissing in the streets, but she always felt a little awkward. 

“How was your morning?” She asked, as the waiter brought him his usual, coffee and croissant. The waiter had stopped ignoring their existence about a week ago, and that was for the better. Parisians were so difficult.

“Good, good. The changes I’ve been asked to oversee are doing great,” he smiled. “I probably have the rest of the day free, except for a meeting tonight, at around 8. It’ll probably involve a lot of alcohol.” 

Maryse laughed. “Do you think I can be invited? Loud drunk French people are my favorites.”

He smiled. “I don’t think anyone would dare to call me off if I bring the Inquisitor’s mother to the party.” 

Maryse shook her head. “Ugh. How about you just bring your girlfriend, huh?” She asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

Luke pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

They settled back onto the chairs and ate their snack, chuckling and looking at the people who were walking by them.

Maryse looked at him from the corner of her eyes as he closed his eyes and let the sun brush his face. She’d never thought she’d had this. A life outside of the Clave, a life with Luke, and a life… doing something she actually loved doing. 

And now she was in Paris, and it was perfect, and she felt young again. She felt like her life had gone much better than it actually had, and she wouldn’t want to exchange this moment for anything else in the world.


End file.
